


In Bed

by Savageandwise



Category: Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Dreams, M/M, McLennon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Savageandwise/pseuds/Savageandwise
Summary: Q magazine 1998:If John Lennon could come back for a day how would you spend it with him?Paul: In bed.NME 2019:"I dream about him,” McCartney revealed. “When you’ve had a relationship like that for so long, such a deep relationship… I love when people revisit you in your dreams.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 18
Kudos: 91





	In Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, John. I love you forever.
> 
> I just finished in time...haha...

This is how it goes. They're in bed. They're both young again. They always are in Paul's dreams. He's got his guitar and he's just messing about a bit. John's got his eyes closed and is tapping time on his leg. Paul plucks out a melody that's just popped into his head then he goes back to the rhythm he was strumming.

"No...do that again...what was that?" John asks, opening his eyes. "Do that fiddly bit again."

"Thought you weren't listening," Paul says sulkily. 

"I'm always fucking listening, baby."

Paul shrugs and plays the notes again. "Miss you," he murmurs as if it's part of the song. He closes his eyes tight as if that will keep him asleep longer.

John puts his hands in Paul's hair and presses his face close. "I miss you too. Don't wake up yet. This is the good part."

"Is it? The good part? I like all the parts."

Paul's eyes are shut but he can feel the shape of John's nose against his cheek. He slides a hand down John's neck and over his shoulder, does spider fingers down his side. The guitar is trapped between them, Paul shoves it out of the way.

"Tickles," John laughs breathily. He reaches down and grabs hold of Paul's cock, squeezes it experimentally. Paul can feel John's cheeky grin. Though his eyes are closed he can see that twinkle in his eye. It's so like John to get straight to the point. 

"Slow down, slow down, now," Paul murmurs. "We've got all the time in the world." He needs to believe that's true. He lives for dreams like this. For these stolen moments.

John loosens his grip, runs his thumb over the head of Paul's cock. "Slower?" 

Paul can't help but shiver, he opens his eyes reflexively. John looks amused and aroused and full of love. "How about a kiss first, Casanova?" Paul asks.

John takes hold of Paul's chin and looks into his eyes. "You're a relic from another age, Macca."

"You'd be the same," he laughs. "You think you'd be twerking on tiktok at eighty years of age?"

"I'd be tweaking like a master," John says, leans forward and takes Paul's bottom lip between his teeth.

"Twerking," Paul manages just before John covers his mouth with his own. 

He tastes the cigarettes on John's breath, slides his tongue over his teeth. He wants to reclaim everything, wants to take it all with him into the waking world. John's hand is between his legs again, fingertips curling against the inside of his thigh.

"Stubborn fucker," Paul breathes between kisses. "Even here you won't do what you're told."

John dips down, grips Paul's hips and sighing takes his cock in his mouth. It feels so real he can feel John's breath against his pubic hair. He can feel the slide of John's tongue against the sensitive head. He threads his hands through John's hair. And everything feels so vibrantly, violently immediate. Like no time has passed at all. They're still barely twenty, making love in a cheap hotel room in Paris. 

He can't help himself, he can't hold back and before long he's come in John's mouth, head spinning and his heart going a million miles an hour. He shuts his eyes tight, clenches his muscles. Let me stay here, Paul thinks desperately. Let me stay with you. 

"Time makes everything better," John says, stretching out beside Paul, his hand lazily stroking his own erection.

"That's not true, you know. It was just as good then," Paul says fiercely. He pulls John close, rubs his nose into his tousled hair. John's stiff cock prods him in the hip and because it's a dream he's flush with lust again. "And don't say it's because it's a dream."

John rolls over, runs a hand over Paul's skin possessively. He takes Paul's hand, slides it up and down along his cock playfully. Then he lets out a small sceptical sound. "Who says it's a dream?" he asks tarty. 

He's missed this part as much as he's missed the intimacy: John's scepticism, his relentless questioning, the strange labyrinthine workings of his mind.

"Isn't it?" Paul asks, amused. He reaches up to kiss John's lips. He grips John's cock firmly, working up a steady rhythm.

"Maybe this is reality and what you think is real is a dream," John gasps, his lips curving into a devious grin.

Paul chuckles fondly. "Maybe it is."

"A world without me?" John clicks his tongue disapprovingly, tilts his hips and thrusts hard into Paul's fist. "Sounds like fake news to me."


End file.
